4
1303 Words
The sun had barely risen over Manhattan, casting pale gold light across the penthouse, when Elara stumbled into the kitchen barefoot, hair a mess, eyes still burning from sleep and champagne.
She hadn’t planned on waking up in his apartment — she’d planned to sneak out of the gala early, ditch the heels, and nurse her bruised ego in solitude.
But Damon had insisted they leave together.
For the cameras.
Always for the cameras.
Now here she was, draped in a borrowed silk robe, staring at a marble countertop that probably cost more than her entire wardrobe.
And of course, there he was.
Damon Voss.
Already dressed in a crisp white shirt, sleeves rolled, tie loosened just enough to look unintentional. His back was to her as he read something on his tablet, sipping his espresso like it was a business meeting and not six in the morning on a Sunday.
“You always dress like a Forbes cover before breakfast?” she asked.
Without turning around, he said, “You always look like a tornado before coffee?”
She narrowed her eyes. “Charming.”
“I try.”
He finally turned, eyes flicking over her robe. He didn’t comment, but the pause said enough.
She tightened the belt.
“Don’t get ideas,” she said, walking past him. “This isn’t a honeymoon.”
“I wasn’t thinking about a honeymoon,” Damon said, lowering the tablet. “I was thinking about this.”
He slid the screen across the counter.
It was a headline.
💥 Billionaire Damon Voss and New Wife Elara Quinn Share Romantic First Dance at Sterling Gala – But Is It Real?
Anonymous source claims “contract marriage” is the real reason behind surprise nuptials.
Elara’s stomach dropped.
“You’ve got to be kidding me.”
“I wish.”
She skimmed the article. Blurry photos. Speculation. Quotes from “inside sources” about how fast they married, how cold she looked, how calculated he seemed.
And then, the line that made her pulse spike:
One insider claims the marriage is a calculated move for inheritance reasons — and may be voided within a year.
Her gaze snapped to him. “Who leaked this?”
Damon’s expression was unreadable. “We’re investigating.”
“We? Don’t say it like we’re a team.”
He leaned forward. “Because if this spreads, we will have to become one. Fast.”
She folded her arms. “You told me this would be discreet. No press. No tabloids. No scandals.”
“I said I would protect your father’s company. I never promised silence.”
“Same difference,” she snapped.
“No,” he said, voice low, “it’s not. One I can control. The other? Not so much.”
She stared at him.
The ice in his voice.
The cold logic.
The complete lack of fear.
It made her furious.
“Why aren’t you more worried?”
“I am,” he said simply. “I just don’t panic.”
“Well, that makes one of us.”
Damon stood and crossed the kitchen slowly, stopping just short of her.
“The damage is still containable,” he said. “If we keep up appearances. If we don’t flinch.”
“Appearances,” she repeated. “That’s all this is to you. A game of optics and PR management.”
“And what did you think it would be, Elara?” he asked, voice tightening. “Love?”
Her breath caught.
He didn’t flinch — but something flickered in his eyes.
Regret?
No. Not him.
He didn’t regret.
Not anything.
Not even this.
She stepped back.
“I want a lawyer to review the prenup again.”
“You already signed.”
“I don’t care. If this explodes, I’m not going down with you.”
“Then you’d better learn how to float,” he said coldly.
They stared at each other, two storms in a silent war.
And then the intercom buzzed.
Damon walked over and answered. “Yes?”
“Mr. Voss,” his assistant’s voice crackled through. “There’s a situation downstairs. A woman claiming to know Mrs. Voss… She’s refusing to leave.”
Elara frowned. “Who?”
“She won’t give a last name, but she says she’s an ex… of yours.”
Damon blinked.
Elara raised an eyebrow. “Yours?”
He turned back to the intercom. “Put her on hold. I’ll be down.”
When he hung up, Elara crossed her arms. “Care to explain?”
“No idea who it is. Probably someone looking for attention now that the press is sniffing around.”
But Elara could see something in his eyes. A shift. A flicker of something unsettled.
“Stay here,” he said.
“No,” she replied. “If she’s claiming to know me, I’m coming.”
Damon opened his mouth to argue — then thought better of it.
The lobby of Voss Tower was already tense when they arrived.
Security guards stood in front of a tall woman in dark sunglasses, red lipstick, and the kind of casual designer outfit that screamed I have nothing to lose.
When she saw Elara, she smiled.
“Well, there she is,” the woman said. “The wife.”
Elara narrowed her eyes. “Do I know you?”
The woman took off her sunglasses.
And Elara froze.
Sasha Lennox.
The socialite Damon had dated two years ago. A woman famous for her affairs with powerful men — and for leaking one of them to the tabloids for a seven-figure payout.
Sasha smiled wider. “You don’t. But I know your husband.”
“Elara, go upstairs,” Damon said sharply.
“No,” she said, barely breathing.
Sasha’s eyes flicked between them. “So it is real. Or at least… legally binding. I wasn’t sure.”
“What do you want, Sasha?” Damon asked, tone flat.
She pulled out her phone.
“I have emails. Screenshots. From before your wedding.”
Elara’s stomach twisted.
“What kind of emails?” she asked.
Sasha looked her dead in the eye.
“The kind that suggest this whole marriage is fake. Negotiated. Strategic. And if I leak them, not only will his inheritance go up in smoke, but so will your career — and your father’s company.”
Damon stepped forward. “You’re bluffing.”
Sasha smiled.
“Am I?”
She waved her phone.
“Ten million,” she said sweetly. “Wire transfer. Today. Or TMZ gets an exclusive.”
Elara felt the walls closing in.
This wasn’t a scandal.
This was blackmail.
And suddenly, the weight of this arrangement — the danger of it — slammed into her all at once.
She wasn’t just playing a role anymore.
She was trapped in it.
Damon didn’t even blink. “Five million.”
“Ten,” Sasha repeated. “You can afford it. Or you can watch the world burn around your pretty little lie.”
Damon exhaled. “Fine. You’ll have it in three hours. But if you ever come near my wife again—”
“Don’t worry,” Sasha said. “She’s too smart for you anyway.”
She winked at Elara — and walked out.
Security followed.
Silence fell.
Elara turned to Damon, her voice low and shaking.
“How many more women like her are going to show up?”
He looked at her. Not cruelly. Not coldly.
Just… tired.
“None that matter,” he said.
“But she had proof.”
“She had bait.”
Elara stepped back.
“I need to know what’s real,” she said. “I need to know where the lies end.”
Damon stared at her.
And said nothing.
- Writer
